Stand By Me
by Mysterious Loser
Summary: Takes place near the end of FFVII and post FFVII. No one knows how Zack managed to survive the onslaught of Shinra Soldiers-not even himself. But he harbors a secret that might prove to be the answer to that question, should he choose to disclose it. ON HIATUS.
1. The Man on the Daytona

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Final Fantasy, Crisis Core, Zack, etc…But I DO own Dale.

**A/N: **I wrote this story before Crisis Core came out and I got a little ways in before the game actually DID come to the US. Since then, I've been putting this story on hiatus until I could get a good concept of the game, so I've been going back and redoing all of these chapters.

This is a turnabout fic that begins right before the end of Final Fantasy VII and continues post FF VII. Things in here get a little…strange…and I know the concepts used have been used in the past already but, hey, it's Final Fantasy. What HASN'T already been used?

So please give this story a chance and RnR if you like.

**\/\/\/**

**Stand By Me**

**Chapter One**

**The Man On The Daytona**

**\/\/\/**

For some strange reason, he wasn't surprised when he saw the barrel of the Mako Cannon rise to the sky, nor was he surprised to see the massive steel run towards the horizon, as though it had been built to an indefinite reach. He had a job to do and whatever happened outside the walls of Midgar, it didn't concern him.

At least, not yet.

The gigantic WEAPON had been called into standby, or so he heard, and was apparently waiting for a much larger adversary outside the wall. While everyone lay in wait, a tumbleweed of silence rolling by each sector, he continued on with his normal routine. Whatever happened happened. It wouldn't be as though it had been the first time he avoided death.

"Here you are," he replied, handing a woven basket to an elderly lady, who clutched it to her chest like it was the last thing worth caring about in the world.

"Bless you, sir," she replied in an almost nasally voice. She handed him a coin meant to be a tip and slowly closed the door in front of him.

Tucking it into his pocket, he turned back to his Daytona, a real rarity in these parts, and put his dark shades over his eyes.

It didn't get much better than this, he figured. And watching the faces of the people he made deliveries to light up with excitement was more than enough to count as a tip. If Shinra was stupid enough now to pick fights with those bigger than them, it was their own fault.

He tried not to think about it anymore, being years ago and all, but sometimes he asked himself what he was doing here, and then remembered.

_I almost died outside this place. I awoke, cold and tired—it was raining. I remember blood—my blood—all over the place. It took some effort, but I managed to stand up. Then I found myself walking, arms hugging myself until I couldn't remember where I was walking to anymore. Slowly, I couldn't remember anything anymore, like how I got there, where I was going, or my own name. The next thing I knew, I was in Costa Del Sol, sitting on the beach in a pair of swimming trunks, and it all came back. Why did it come back?_

Then he came back here…Why? There was nothing for him here.

When he _did_ eventually come back, he immediately went searching for _her._ Thousands of thoughts filled his mind—what was he going to say to her? Would she even _remember_ him? Did she have a new boyfriend? Did she still love him?Among all those things, he never imagined that when he arrived, her house would be boarded up—vandalized even—and that she would be dead. He had found _that_ out the hard way.

Since that day, he had taken it upon himself to finish what he knew she always wanted. She had shown him the flowers in the church and he tended to those. He had been to her house and so scrubbed away the graffiti and worked around the garden. He got a job in Sector 6 (that was the closest he could get to being near all those things, and, with his Daytona, it was no problem.

He wasn't sure _why_ he had done it, since she was gone now and he hated Shinra with an absolute passion, but he remembered that he was going to propose to her on the day he got back. With a desire unfulfilled, he deemed it reasonable to feel guilty and want to repay the woman he loved in such a respectful manner—especially since he was not around to save her in the end.

He worked at the grill house as both head chef and delivery boy. When he had to go on errands to make the deliveries, he had his chef-in-training handle the post orders. His boss, overall, was very generous and was one of the only people who _knew_ that he had come here under dire circumstances.

He had planned to live out the rest of his life this way, in a quiet, solitude fashion that kept him happy. Though it was hard living under Shinra's thumb, he tried to make the best of it, even keeping a low profile in the presence of others. Among this, he had given himself a false last name, but became a little more relaxed when two years went by and nothing happened.

He arrived back at the grill house a little before three, the engine on his Daytona still running. Walking through the door, which was in desperate need of a paint job, he first noted that the entire joint was empty—unusual for a Tuesday afternoon.

"They're all worked up about that Sister Ray in the sky." The Boss must've known what he was thinking. He almost _always_ knew what he was thinking. "So the rest of the day will probably be like this. Take the day off, would you, Zack?"

"You don't have to tell me twice," Zack laughed, setting his red bag down on the counter. He ran a hand through his black, porcupine styled hair. "I need the time off, anyway."

"To do what?" the Boss grinned. "To spend time in that little garden of yours in Sector 5?"

"Geez," Zack sighed and shook his head. "You caught me." Then he laughed again, realizing how good it felt to be able to be free like this.

"Zack, I'll never know what it _is_ with you and that place, but one thing's for sure," he was washing out a shot glass with a slightly dirty rag, "you're in love with that place, and I ain't gonna be the one to stand between you and it."

"No," Zack denied, "I'm in love with the gardener who _used_ to take care of those flowers. But…that's all history now."

"Ah," the Boss said, as though he understood, "you're talking about that Aeris kid, right? Downright beauty she was. Her mother picked up and left right after finding out what became of her."

There was a flash of pain in Zack's eyes, but he disguised it with a well-built smile.

"I wish I could do the same, but…" the youth twirled the keys to his Daytona around his finger, "I have a promise to keep." Waving to his boss, he added, "Catch ya later, Dale."

"That's _Boss_ to you!" But it was all in good humor. Zack knew that.

He walked back outside, his Daytona still revving its motor, and straddled the seat as he lowered the shades from his head. The Boss was right. He _was_ going to her place to shape up the flowers a bit. Two days before, he had nearly indulged himself in a fistfight with two bratty punks who he had caught tromping all over the flowerbeds.

He was lucky to have gotten there in time before any real _serious_ damage had been done, and he had leapt off his bike quicker than he ever had, hands balled into tight fists. The two boys, who were not much younger than him, he guessed, were quick to start the fight, but Zack had more manpower and skill than the two combined, swinging punches and throwing kicks above their heads. He didn't want to hurt them, which came as a surprise. The fact that they had _dared_ to trespass over _his_ land was unthinkable.

It was a fortuitous turn of events, at least _he _had thought so, when the two had decided to flee. However, he had to fix the damage they had done. Zack patted the packets of seeds in his back pocket. He pushed up the kickstand, ready to take off through town. Immediately after he had looked up, he was forced to stop and muttered an almost slurred curse word.

Before him was a poorly painted red carriage, towed along by a less than graceful looking Chocobo, its feathers dulled and somewhat brown. He watched as it trotted past him, the wheels on the carriage squeaking as they rolled by.

Zack chewed on his lower lip, staring after the retreating carriage. Sure, he had heard about Don Corneo quite some time ago, but something happened and the fat puke had died, leaving his mansion abandoned. It was no surprise to anyone…

…until Zack heard his name again just days before.

He was known as the man who "married death" and escaped it to tell the tale. Zack was almost positive that _he_ had been the only one with that title until then. But if it was true…

Well, it wasn't _his_ problem, but it was an interesting thing to know. If he could avoid death from Shinra Soldiers, who was there to say that even the great Don Corneo could still live after falling from a Wutai cliff hundreds of feet high. _Or more, even._ Still, Zack wasn't a player. Never believed in it. He had heard about the way the Don did things and it always sickened him. But…if girls were offering themselves up to him, what right did he have to stand in their way? _Not to mention, wouldn't that go against my law of a low profile?_ He chewed bitterly on the prospect of right and wrong.

_What's the problem with me? Why am I contemplating this, now? It's __**just**__ the __**Don!**__ What difference does it make whether he's alive or dead? What difference does it make to __**me**__ what he does in his spare time?_

Then he frowned, folding his arms over his chest, and completely forgot about his running motor.

The truth was that he _did_ care. _A lot._ The only reason why was because of a lesson someone had taught him some time before. _Or is it because I'm slightly curious as to know what a man like the Don is doing back in a place like this? Can I afford to break my code for this one little peek?_

He burst out laughing for no reason in particular. "Of course I can!" _A man who avoids death deserves respect. But I doubt that his survival was the same as mine. Nevertheless, let's see if I can't make his acquaintance._

Rearing back onto his Daytona, Zack sped off after the carriage, kicking up a plume of dust after his whirling tires. He wheeled the vehicle around the buildings, the humming of the motor causing everyone to look at him. He wanted to throw his head back and cackle. _This has to be one of the most idiotic things I've done in a while. Why am I doing this again?_ But, then again, he always _knew_ that he was a nosy suck. This was nothing new.

**\/\/\/**

Please RnR if you liked. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. If people like it, I'll keep posting. If not, then I will go and throw myself a pity party.

ML


	2. The Woman From Rocket Town

**Disclaimer:** I really…REALLY don't own Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core, and all that jazz.

**A/N:** Thank you to my readers and reviewers! As a reply to Aurenare, I am aware that Zack is dead (the reminder makes me cry), and you read right. Zack and Shera (not as a coupling). I'm really taking a twist on the series, so it's gonna seem a little loopy and not at all congruent with the series. Hope this doesn't bother anybody.

Anywho, please continue to read and review. Your support is most welcome!

**So from now on,** I'll be writing my stories in **order of importance.** If you want to see more of **this story,** please review and tell me so, or vote in the poll on my author's page. Thanks much!

**\/\/\/**

**Stand By Me**

**Chapter Two**

**The Woman From Rocket Town**

**\/\/\/**

Zack skid around the corner, almost not making it. He let out a loud, "Whoooo!" as the adrenaline from almost crashing overtook him. He loved a good ride. But he liked them even better when it was attached to a personal issue.

_Besides, could __**she**__ let me go if I don't do something? After all of this, it wouldn't be right. It would be like me handing __**her**__ over to someone like him._

He sharply turned the bike and the Daytona slid off to one side. He spotted the vague shape of the carriage pulling around the back. It was silly, really. He didn't even know _how_ he was going to get in.

_And I sure as heck ain't dressing up like a woman. _He knew _she_ would be amused at the thought, though. _Or maybe you're looking to get some action?_ He instantly chided himself for that ridiculous thought.

He parked the vehicle in front of the tent, yanked the keys from the ignition, and leapt off of the seat, jingling the keys in one hand. He followed the corner around until he caught sight of the carriage being unloaded by two burly men, one who was balding and the other who had a rather large tattoo on his right arm.

Zack wandered down to the sight, forcing a rather large grin upon his face. A woman was being unloaded from the back, hunched over and shivering. Her clothes were rather ordinary, just a simple lab coat and tan pants. He couldn't see her face over her messy, brown ponytail. Whatever the case, this woman did _not_ appear to be the instigator in the ordeal.

_A hostage? Who knew that my intuition would serve for me a purpose? Very well, then. Let's see how far I can get with these guys._

The youth cracked his knuckles, still approaching the two men who held the woman by each arm. _And I don't have to break into the joint. This is my lucky day._

"Yo," Zack called out. They looked up at him. "How much for the woman there?"

"She ain't for rent," the balding man retorted, almost spitting out his words. "She ain't for sale neither."

"Aw, come on, fellas. If we can't negotiate, then what do I have left?"

"This here is property of the Don. Can't deny him his rights."

Zack stood awkwardly, placing his hands on his tan pants. Two dog tags rattled against his neck, and he inattentively brushed off invisible dust on his black tank top. His arms were cut with shapely definition, several scars lined around them. Removing the glasses from his eyes and placing them on top of his porcupine styled hair, his feet slid into a defensive stance, and he brought his arms up, hands fisted, to his face.

"It's been three long years for me," the youth replied. "The military does that to ya. It depletes your brain cells and makes a soldier go mad. Now, _can't_ we come to an agreement on _something?_" A silly thought came to his mind and he added, "Before I kill again…"

There was a slight twinge of fear in the eyes of the two men, but it quickly vanished before they released the woman mirrored Zack's stance.

"Yeah, Hot Stuff?" the man with the tattoo snorted. "You and what army?"

The balding man withdrew a long chain with a lock on the end while his partner pulled a knife, the blade chipped near the edge.

"Man, you guys are stiff. But that's okay. This'll take three seconds."

"What? You arrogant punk!"

The man with the lock charged forward, swinging the chain. He lunged forward, hurling the chain at Zack's face. The youth skillfully dodged and snatched the chain with amazing speed. Ripping the chain from the man's hand, he quickly wrapped it around his own fist, securing the lock within the palm of his hand.

"Now let's have a real party," Zack smiled, dancing around the chainless man. Still keeping his eye on the man with the knife, the youth threw a weak kick that diverted his opponent's eye before throwing a punch with the fist that held the lock, giving the attack more weight with the steel, and enhanced the strike. The man toppled backwards, which prompted the man with the knife to attack from behind.

Zack dropped to one knee as the air was disturbed above him with a glimmering blade attached, and he used his other leg to propel his body and sweep the man off of his feet.

"Outstanding, gentlemen!" Zack exclaimed, the two men crumpled upon the ground and slightly turning over to regain their focus. Looking to the man with the knife, he kicked the weapon out of his hand and it skittered across the ground some odd distance away. "Anyway," the youth flicked the cowlick from his eyes, "I have some other business to attend to, so if you'll excuse me…"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man who had held the knife struggle to stand. Shrugging, Zack lifted his leg high and came crashing down upon the head of the man like a hammer. Giving a loud grunt, the man was back on the ground.

"Three seconds," Zack repeated, then tossed the chain and lock to the ground. He wandered over to the frightened woman, who had apparently seen everything, shivering with her hands held to her face. "My lady," the youth bowed low, extending a gentle hand in her direction, as though he were asking her to dance.

She stared at it, and then vehemently shook her head, her cheeks pink and flustered. He continued to smile, gingerly took her hand, and began to lead her back to his motorcycle.

"N-No," she whimpered, pulling against him.

"I won't hurt you," he promised. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe." He could tell that she was debating from the puzzled look in her eyes. Zack decided to give her a little nudge, "Or, if you'd prefer, I can leave you with these guys."

She didn't hesitate for long after that and gave a small nod, shuffling her feet behind him. He stepped over the fallen thugs, holding her hand in his. Zack directed her to his motorcycle, and he flicked his glasses over his eyes. Helping her onto the seat, the youth positioned himself in the front and placed the keys into the ignition.

"Hold on tight," he ordered and he could feel her tiny hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt around his waist. Zack pushed up the kickstand and revved the engine before speeding away.

\/\/\/

"Here we are," Zack said once he had successfully pulled up in front of the rather large house set back from the road, surrounded by yellow daffodils. The young woman was busy gazing around as he stalled the engine, removed the keys, and set the kickstand down.

He hopped off to the left and reclaimed her attention as he took one of her hands and offered to help her off the seat.

"Is…this your place?" she quietly asked.

"Well…sort of," he shrugged. "Lately, I've become more of the caretaker here." He, too, turned to gaze at the flowerbed set high on a hill, a little ways from the house. A shimmering, clear waterfall was running behind the house, and the woman turned to it. The breeze whistled by them and the aroma of flowers tickled their noses. Zack caught a free petal in the air and held it in between his fingers. After a moment, he let it go.

His attention shifted to the house. He had finished painting it recently, and reminded himself that the shingles had to be fixed. Reaching out, he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe away a smudge on one of the windows. When he looked back, the woman was peering over the brown picket fence at the cool stream running below.

"This is…very pretty," she observed. She wasn't shaking now, Zack noticed, but her voice was still very quiet and slightly hinged with fear. He couldn't quite blame her. Her eyes trailed up to the lively flowerbed on the ledge above them. She met his eyes, as though asking for approval. "May I?"

"Be my guest," he responded, nonchalantly.

She wandered past him, slowly making her way to the stepladder on the opposite side of the house. He followed her, watching as she climbed up to the top.

"Don't hurt yourself," he said before he began to ascend after her.

"I won't." She brushed herself off and stood upright, gazing at the marvelous care that had been put into the flowerbeds. Pointing to them, she asked, "Did you do all of this?"

"Me? No. It was started by someone I knew and…" he pushed himself from the ladder and arched his back to trail her focus, "…when she wasn't around to take care of it anymore, I decided to look after the place." Zack forced a grin.

"Not…around?" The woman looked to him, eyebrow quirked. "I always knew that flowers couldn't grow in Midgar. I…I grew up here, too. But, there was one woman I knew that could miraculously obtain that beauty." Zack noticed that she was rubbing her arm with anxiety. "She…died though."

"Was she from here?" he crossed his arms.

"I believe so," she nodded. Then, after a moment, "Yes. I'm sure of it. Her name was Aeris."

It was Zack's turn to knit his eyebrows. So, a woman who knew her? The world was indeed a small place.

"Then I'll have you know that this is her house," he admitted, "and these are her flowers."

The woman looked at him with disbelief. "You were acquainted with her, too?"

"I was."

Her disbelief was replaced with a look that was unreadable. Zack wondered what was troubling her.

"She never mentioned you."

"Ha," Zack laughed. "But you don't even know my name."

The woman flushed slightly and adjusted the glasses on her petite nose. It gave him time to finally look her over now that she was not hanging her head with shame or fright. She was a dainty, little thing. Cute, in an odd sort of way, yet lacked the beauty that his beloved once had. However, she came off as intellectual and matured beyond her years, a trait she made up in that Zack wasn't quite sure Aeris had.

_But maybe she did, under that exterior of freefalling._

"That's true," she replied. "So…uh…may I ask what it is?"

"Hmm…" he extended a hand. "It's Zack Terrain. Yours?"

"Shera," she replied, her voice acquiring a little more volume, as though she were becoming more comfortable with his presence.

"That's a pretty name," he said. "So, you say she never mentioned me?"

"Zack…" she repeated and then shook her head. "It's unfamiliar to me. I'm sorry."

"No biggy," he shook it off.

It really was no surprise. When he had come back to town, he had been hurt to learn that she had given up on him, saying that her relationship with him hadn't been serious at all. He heard that from several of her friends who recognized him right off the bat. It was also from them that he learned of her death. _That was __**after**__ I went to her house, too._ After that, he dropped the military act, changed his last name, and began work at the grill house. He blamed himself mostly for taking off so often, never _really_ staying in touch, and running off to Costa Del Sol for as much time as he had.

It was a shame, too. He had bought an engagement ring to give to her after he had gotten back from Nibelheim. He had already thought of where to live and what he wanted to do. He was going to quit SOLDIER, maybe become a blacksmith or something silly like that. It would've made her laugh.

He had loved it when she laughed.

"You okay?" Shera broke him from his thoughts, touching his arm gently.

"Fine," he said. "Anyway, I've been staying here for a while—in Midgar that is—and I was living in Sector Six until not too long ago. I've been dealing with some vandalism from punk kids who like to come here and wreck the flowers. So I moved into her old house." He laughed, "I don't think she'll mind now. Her mom moved out and I know how much those flowers meant to her. Can't give them up, now can I?"

"I suppose not," she replied, her voice quiet again.

"Anyway, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like," Zack invited. "It's no problem to me."

At the thought, she tensed. "I…I was actually looking for someone."

"Ah," he gestured back to the house with his thumb. "But it's getting late, now. How about I take you where you want to go tomorrow?"

Again she seemed uneasy, but agreed after a moment. There wasn't any place she _could_ go, anyway. Obviously, she had been gone from Midgar too long to realize its changes.

On the other hand, so had Zack.

"All right," she said.

"Great," he walked back towards the stepladder. "I'll fix us something to eat. Anything you prefer?"

"Ah…it doesn't matter." She followed after him. "Um, do you like tea?"

\/\/\/

Yeah, I know Zack's last name is Fair, just to be clear. And more about the Crisis Core plot will come into play as well. Sorry about the slow start. I'm pretty shaky coming into this. Please let me know what you think!

ML


	3. A Quaint Chat

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Final Fantasy VII.

**A/N: **Sorry that this chapter is so short. The next one will be a little longer AND more interesting.

**\/\/\/**

**Stand By Me**

**Chapter Three**

**A Quaint Chat**

**\/\/\/**

Zack was appreciative of her help and she made tea for the both of them while he worked on something light for her.

"Uh…Spaghetti?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That's fine," she replied.

He turned back to the stove.

After Aeris' walked away, she had left everything. He wasn't sure why. From the look of things, no one would ever know the house had been abandoned or that someone had died. It merely appeared as though someone were on vacation, or had stepped out for a quick walk. The flowers had been wilting when Zack stepped in, but he continuously changed them in and out to brighten the garden.

_Where's that flower wagon when you need it?_ He chuckled to himself.

He dusted, kept up with the housework, and gardening. It was quite a joke. _Mister Mom,_ he began to call himself. _With a lifestyle like this, you'd never know I was in SOLDER._

A fire was going on the other side of the room, warming the house, and Shera had only slightly taken the time to admire the housekeeping before seating herself down at the table.

"That was all Aeris and her mother," Zack credited. "I only clean what time changes around here. Flowers, bedding, dust, ya know."

"I see. Were you…related to her?"

"Like…family?"

"You know, a brother? A cousin?"

"Her old boyfriend."

There was a disturbing silence that fed through the room after that. He tried not to notice it, but the two had suddenly grown uncomfortable. Zack knew why. It wasn't easy bringing up old memories. Things like that were meant to stay dead. _Along with the dead._

"Her…old boyfriend?"

"Yes. There was an accident and she thought I had died. So," he forced a smile, but she couldn't see it with his back turned to her, "I don't exactly _qualify _as an EX."

There was another bout of silence, but it did not nettle him like it would someone else. In fact, he did not mind at all.

"I'm sorry," he heard her whisper. "I…I didn't know…"

"Most don't," he replied. "It's something that just comes with time. History, I meant. An individual's history. Heh, maybe it's the territory instead. It comes with the territory." He turned, "Anyway, it's nothing you need to worry about." Zack went to join her at the table while he waited for the noodles to boil and the sauce to heat up.

She quirked an eyebrow in an odd sort of way. "To…worry about?"

"That's right. I haven't been in the company of others for a while. So it's not really their fault for not remembering me. So," he set his hands upon the table, fiddling his thumbs, "can I ask you something?"

"As long as it's not too personal," she replied, suddenly folding her hands in her lap.

"That depends on if you consider it personal." He cocked his head to one side. "Can I ask what you were doing in a place like that? You don't seem like the kind of woman who would associate herself with someone like Don Corneo."

She frowned. "He's been around for a while. No, no it's not like that. I, uh…I was worried about someone, so I followed him here."

"I see."

"Well, while I was searching, I was abruptly hoisted upon someone's shoulders and thrown into a carriage. I really didn't know _what_ was going on."

"Sounds reasonable enough. The wrong place at the wrong time."

"Yes," she concurred. "I'm sorry if you were hoping it was going to be an interesting story."

Her words prompted a smile from him. "No, no, I'm just glad you're safe from him."

"And I have you to thank for that," she mirrored a smile, but it was much more sheepish. "Now, may I ask you something?"

"As long as it's not too personal." Then he laughed. Shera did, too.

"Why did you come?" she asked after she had sobered up.

His eyes turned to the pot on the stove. "I don't know."

"What?"

"That's the weird part," he explained, "I don't know what motivated me to go after the carriage. One minute I'm outside on my Daytona, and the next, I'm beating the pulp out of two punks." He leaned back in his chair, raising it onto two legs. "See, that's always been the thing that messes me up. I mean, I'm not a psychic, but I get this little voice sometimes," he knocked at his head, chuckling. "Human conscience, perhaps?"

"That's too much of a coincidence," she argued softly.

"I know. There was no reason for me to follow it. But, see, a lot of weird things have been happening to me since I came back. Sometimes I think I know why, but other times…" he trailed off, hoping that she would understand where he was getting at.

"Well…I'm happy you did." She offered another smile. It was different from the others she had shared, he noted. There was a hint of light glowing at her lips and a bright radiance flickering in her eyes. For a moment, her soul seemed pure and flawless.

_I shouldn't have lied. But if I hadn't, I don't think she'd be smiling now._

A physical weight exhausted him into the chair even further, and he had to force his gaze from hers. "Spaghetti's almost done," he muttered, a change of topic doing him better.

"I'll get the plates."

"Don't trouble yourself," he waved her away. "After all, you've already gone to the trouble of making the tea. You're supposed to be my guest." He shared a weak nod with her and defied the law of gravity as he pulled himself from the chair. "I insist you stay the night. I insist that you eat the food. And…" reaching up to the cabinet, he withdrew two plates and then leaned over to the silverware drawer, "I insist that you accept the hospitality without feeling indebted. I insist."

His eyes were drawn from her. He focused on the food and preparing dinner. He took the kettle from the stove and poured tea into two cups.

"How do you like your tea?"

"Oh," he could hear her rise from the chair, followed by soft footsteps moving across the cobblestone floor. "I'll take care of that."

"What?"

"I _insist._"

Zack shot her a look, but he couldn't keep a straight face for long, and soon, both were laughing at the other.

"All right," he sobered after a moment and brushed past her, holding the large pan with both hands. He set it upon the surface of the table and walked back to get the two plates and forks. He repeated the process another time. "Hope you enjoy it."

"I probably will," Shera replied.


	4. WEAPON

**Disclaimer:** I'm listening to "Price of Freedom" as I write this. I AM SAD! I HEART ZACK! Alas, I don't own him… (Shoots self)

**A/N:** I'm miserable with updates and writing my stories. Sorry…So, anyway, this is where Zack's skeletons come tumbling out of his closet and we find out how he managed to survive Shinra's attack on him. Please don't think ill of it. As I said before, it's Final Fantasy. What HASN'T been done already?

**\/\/\/**

**Stand By Me**

**Chapter Four**

**WEAPON**

**\/\/\/**

After a mostly silent dinner, Zack cleared away the plates, unsure of how to begin a conversation again with her after the unexpected stillness exchanged between them. Most of the time he could tell that she was lost in thought, but he wasn't much of an exception, either. Someone else who knew Aeris? Well, that wasn't unusual. Many people had known her. She was loved by everyone.

Especially him.

He knew what she was and what the Shinra had wanted from her. It was a real hard bind back then, and their meetings often had to be in secret. Even Elmyra, her mother, didn't approve of the relationship. Not that he could blame her. He was from SOLDIER. He was the enemy. And he wasn't sure if both Aeris and her mother knew it back then, but he _had_ pulled strings to help keep Aeris away from Shinra a little longer. Tseng had been a big help, too, of course. It was ironic, really. In a way, he had to inwardly laugh at the thought of "sleeping with the enemy."

But he wanted to do all he could for this woman who knew the one he had loved. Any friend of Aeris' was a friend of his. And besides, Shinra was no longer a part of the equation.

"Where ya headed off to?" he asked after he showed her to her bedroom upstairs. Zack felt embarrassed at the time, so he hadn't quite told her that his room was where Aeris' had once been.

"I'm…" she was rubbing her arm again, nervous. _She's always so edgy. I wonder why…? _"I'm not quite sure. I was looking for someone, but I don't know if they're still in Midgar."

"I see," he nodded. "Well, tomorrow, I only have to work the opening shift, so if you don't mind, I'd like to take you around the city." Zack stopped to think a moment. "That'll probably be at around one. Is that all right with you?"

"Yes," she said. "I'll wait for you until then."

He watched her shuffle into the guestroom and slowly closed the door. Zack wandered back downstairs, unable to sleep.

_**You're in there, aren't you?**_

__Zack was outside before he realized the voice. It came as a low stir, like an animal growl. His hands were in his pockets. He realized that he hadn't changed, yet.

_**Guardian Sapphire, you know who I am, do you not?**_

__Everything else was quiet and the crickets were chirping in the flowerbeds. No one else heard the grumbling of the land.

No, he thought. This isn't the land.

_**Why do you refuse to answer me!**_

__Zack looked to the sky. It was difficult to see the stars under the plate. And his eyes caught sight of the Mako Ray. It was aimed outside the wall at the voice who accosted him now. There were outsiders there, too. The voice told him so.

_**I can feel your presence. Are you afraid to speak? Is it because your soul is squirming within the wretchedness of human skin?**_

__It was calming again. Zack stepped out onto the dirt road, past his Daytona, and towards the brown picket fence.

_It has nothing to do with me._

_**You speak? But your words are bitter! How can you not participate!**_

__Zack flicked the cowlick at his forehead. His brows had knitted together and deep creases formed around the edges of his lips.

_Let the Shinra believe that their cause is just. Even all of their best efforts are in vain._

_**You are willing to sit back and watch? It's been nearly two years since we first beheld you and almost one since we've last seen you. Are you saying that you've grown accustomed to this human life?**_

___I was human before you found me, and I'll still be human after. Call me a spectator. I, myself, would like to see the power of the WEAPON._

_**Your eyes…they're sapphire. They were always sapphire. Even Jenova could not break those eyes.**_

___Show me why a WEAPON must fight. Show me. A WEAPON does not love, it does not hate, it only obeys orders. Because I obeyed the orders of a WEAPON, my happiness was lost. Sometimes, I wish you had left me to die in the Lifestream with the rest._

Zack ran a hand across the newly furnished boards of the fence. He was chewing on his lower lip.

_**I remember a time where the WEAPONS were once flawless. Only a human could show wavering emotions.**_

___I always __**was**__ human._

Zack chuckled, thinking back on it all. Nibelheim, Hojo, the experiments…It was _there _that the word "WEAPON" meant anything at all. Angeal had saved him, true…but so had something else.

Saved? Could he honestly consider this life had been _saved?_

_It was not of my own will that drew me to the ocean that day. It was Sapphire's._

_**Aren't you Guardian Sapphire? Or has the human soul taken over you?**_

__The former SOLDIER shook his head. _Damn you, Hojo, for complicating my life this way._

The voice was silent and there was no more noise for quite some time after that. Then, Zack could hear the cutting of propellers through the air and a large shadow darkened across Midgar, flying by at incredible speeds. It was then that his attention turned to the Mako Ray, illuminating with a bright light as Mako powered the weapon.

_If you fight here, the lives of all those will be lost._

_**It is the way of the Planet. Don't sound so fragile.**_

___She loved the people! I can't let you do this._

_**How can you stop me?**_

__The city was taken aback as the shot rang out into the skies, Mako streaming out into the sky. Zack couldn't see where it was headed, but he knew who the recipient was going to be. Grabbing the fence, he forced his balance while the world around him shook violently. The tremors only increased when the intended target had been struck, and he clutched at his chest, feeling the pain of the Planet.

There was another loud roar, but it came from the beast outside the walls, and Zack could see something else coming his way.

_How dare you! Have mercy!_

_**Calm yourself. You won't be hurt in the attack. A WEAPON has more power than that.**_

__Zack took a quick step forward.

_But the people…!_

_**They will surely die, as should be their fate. Do not let it trouble you.**_

"SON OF A—!" Zack screamed to the sky, watching as the power of the Diamond WEAPON demonstrated itself to the vast city of Midgar, soon to become ruined. If this was to become their fate… _Aeris…_

Eyes flashing, Zack thrust his arm heavenward toward the Diamond Flash. _You asked me to stall the attack at Junon and I __**did!**__ Is it not fair to fall back when I ask you? If that is the case, then WEAPON shall face WEAPON! _"Sapphire Cannon!"

Scales pulled apart, ripping human flesh from each set of limbs whilst tentacles emerged from what were fingertips of a person. Eyes that were once small grew larger and brighter, the echoing roars of a monster tearing the skies asunder. From within the body of the blue WEAPON, energy gathered at the peak of its chest, skin as tough as sandpaper and as deadly as the strike of thunder. Like voltage feeding through the heavens with great celerity, the ray of Diamond was knocked away from Midgar like a reflecting mirror to the sun.

The collision was quick, but magnificent. The wind roared at the heart of the power, thundering in the ears of all those who watched. Eyes were blinded at the extraordinary whiteness, and were shielded with a pair of arms. Some lost their balance, while trying to stand upright through the hurricane. Screams were drowned out by the rush of fight, deafening the minds of those who cried out.

Then it smelled of fire.

The Diamond Flash had been altered in its course, knocked to the very side of the Shinra building, crushing it and causing it to cave in. Whoever had been in there at the time could not have survived.

When the light faded and the noise ceased and all that was left was the smell of fire, Zack found himself sitting on the front porch to his old lover's house, staring up into the sky with a smile on his face. All was silent on the outside.

_Now, wasn't that a sight?_

There was a deep grumbling, as though the WEAPON beyond the wall had been injured. _In pride only._

_**Pride! You think of pride at a time like this! Can the minds of humans have corrupted the Guardian of the Sea! I suppose you find yourself in such a situation as me, then! If not for the benevolence of the Planet, your regeneration would have been a failure! Both times, might I add! Your death as a man and your death as a WEAPON! There will be no third time for mercy.**_

__Zack glanced down at his arm where a single blue droplet fell from his elbow, circled around one side of his arm, and plummeted to the ground below. His smile ran away for just a moment before he forced it back.

_Silly fool. Being an aquatic creature does not stop me from preventing the likes of you from destroying what my Lady held most dear. And despite my miserable fate from the Sister Ray, it will not stop me from living, either. Now go, before those who are destined to destroy you do so._

_**Sapphire! The others shall learn of your treachery!**_

___Then let it be known._ Zack lay back until he was in a recumbent position on the porch, his eyes gazing to the stars. _The god of the sea has failed in his duty. I'll gladly suffer my punishment with the Planet. Now let me rest._

Zack closed his eyes, shutting his mind down as he breathed deeply upon the coldness of the porch. He could still smell fire.

"Zack!" He recognized Shera's voice as she tore the door open and threw herself outside, nearly stepping on him. "Zack, did you see—"

"It was quite a sight," Zack interrupted, opening his eyes to stare up at her. She was still dressed as she had been earlier, despite his permission to use anything from Aeris' wardrobe, except for the fact that she was barefoot. Even in the moonlight, he could see her flushed cheeks and hear her heavy breathing. "Did you see it from your window?"

She shook her head. "I was only able to see the last moment of it. The vibration startled me awake and I saw the light outside. What happened?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, and used his arm to point to the Shinra building off in the distance, "but look. It's on fire."

She did look, stepping over him and jumping down the steps. Zack found the strength to sit up, though it did render him dizzy for a moment.

"Oh, my word…" her tiny fingers clasped her open mouth, eyes wide and sparkling in the rays of the moon. "It _is_ on fire! I wonder if President Shinra is all right…"

"With a blast like that, I wouldn't be too sure," Zack replied, using the rail to pull himself to his feet. He slightly grimaced at the pain in his chest.

"Oh…" was all she said, an almost devastated tone attached to her voice, as though the thought of the President's death had moved her to tears. _Or perhaps it's someone else she knows…_

"I think I'll take a walk around, then," Zack said, patting her on the back once as he brushed past her. "Maybe I can find out what happened. Go back to sleep, Shera." He turned to look at her, smiling. "You don't want to be exhausted for tomorrow's trip, right?"

"Uh…" She grasped the ends of her lab coat, looking to the ground. "No. I…I guess I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight, Zack, but be careful out there, all right?"

"Come on, 'Danger' is my middle name. I'll be all right. Keep a look out here for me, okay?"

Giving him a small nod, she retreated back up the porch steps and went back inside. Zack looked to the sky and heard nothing more.

"I made my choice," he said when he thought no one could hear him. "I never chose the life of a WEAPON. It was _made_ for me, understand? You, the Planet, Hojo…" It made him want to laugh, and he did so. "Angeal thought it was bad because he was an angel. Wonder what he would think if he saw me as a WEAPON?"

Suddenly, something made his chest clench and he could mentally hear the cries of Diamond WEAPON. Whoever had been sent to destroy him was successfully doing it.

"I don't want to end up the same way," Zack whispered. "It may be the way of the planet…hell, it might even be your _destiny,_ but it sure ain't mine."

He waited out there for a long time until the cries of WEAPON fell deaf against his ears. No one else could hear them.

But he could.

**\/\/\/**

Uh…yeah. So Zack's a WEAPON, which explains the reason he was able to survive past the Shinra attack. Hope it's not _too_ anticlimactic for some. The idea of Zack being a WEAPON has been in my mind for years, and I finally thought I'd try my hand at it. Anyway, please RnR and let me know what you think, but please don't judge me too harshly. I'm trying my best at being somewhat realistic here. Heh…heh…

ML


	5. Don Corneo's Epic Return

**Disclaimer:** Don't own FFVII or Crisis Core or ANYTHING.

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews! Ya, Zack being a WEAPON was from out of left field, but we'll see how it runs. :-D Please RnR me kindly.

**\/\/\/**

**Stand By Me**

**Chapter Five**

**Don Corneo's Epic Return**

**\/\/\/**

"So, did you hear anything about what happened last night?"

Zack was at the stove making breakfast. He was in the middle of flipping pancakes, so he didn't have the time to be startled when the question he had somewhat been dreading came from Shera's mouth. He was happy he had his back to her. He might've been wearing a expression that had given himself away...whatever way that might've been.

"No." It was partly the truth. Partly not, too. He hadn't gone walking like he said he was going to after all.

"Oh." Shera slid down in her chair, hands in her lap.

Zack flipped the pancake again with miraculous skill. "So…yeah, I'll be at work for a few hours today," he reminded her. "After that, I'll take you anywhere you wanna go. Is that all right?"

"Of course," she said. "You've been very kind to me. It would be rude if I complained now."

He chuckled,"You've been through a lot. Feel free to complain all you want."

Zack heard her hum slightly and he tossed the last of the pancakes onto the plate. There were six in all; he wasn't sure how many she could put away.

_ Not like I'm implying that she's fat or anything…Ha, listen to me having an inner monologue with myself. Good thing she can't hear me._

Taking the plate in one hand and syrup in the other, he began to whistle to a little tune he had heard way back when, and set the plate down in front of her.

"Here ya go," he smiled.

She stared down at them, eyes wide, and either she had never seen a pancake before or the hospitality was too much. Either way, Shera didn't argue when she took the fork he had set down earlier and began to cut away.

"T-Thank you," she managed, "but you really didn't have to."

"You're a guest here!" he argued lightly. "I'll do what I please. Besides, your arguing skills are failing you since you've already doused them in syrup." He pointed to her, accusingly, and she was caught in the act of holding the little cup sideways, syrup draining onto the fluffy treats. Reaching over to the chair that held his blue flannel, he pulled his arms into it and continued, "Now then, I'll be back in a while. Try to stay out of trouble before I get back, all right?"

It was meant to be a joke, but she didn't appear to see it that way, especially after the remark about the pancake. His lips contorted and he sighed.

"Oh, r-right," she mumbled.

"Ch," Zack shook his head. "You're too stiff, Shera. It was a _joke!_" Moving toward the door, he called back, "Well, we'll work on it later." He turned around to shoot her a pearly smile.

This prompted her to stare at him awkwardly, eyes wide with fidgeting fingers. He hated to see her so uptight. Zack couldn't help but laugh, and waved to her on the way out.

"See ya later, Shera."

\/\/\/

Shera thought it best to tidy up around the house whilst Zack was at work. She was never one who took hospitality for granted, and wanted to do her best to make it up to the man for not only saving her, but being as kind as he had been. He was even going out of his way to help her find Cid and the others—the reason she had come to Midgar in the first place.

It really _had_ been a coincidence how she wound up in such a predicament that almost led her to the Don, and thinking back on it now put a soft smile on her face. Old memories were prone to do that. She had heard about the Sister Ray and Diamond WEAPON (she wasn't too far off from connections at Shinra. Though Cid had disbanded from them, she still had friends), and the thought worried her sick when she learned that the sky-loving captain was heading straight for Midgar. After the rocket had launched, Cid made it perfectly clear that he was going there with Cloud and the others to straighten Shinra out.

His words left her waking in a cold sweat every night until she found the urge to find a way to Midgar to try and warn him—stop him—_anything_ to make sure that he stayed safe. After all, he was _her_ Captain, no matter what he thought of her. She had said it once and she would say it again:

_"I__'ll live my life for the Captain…"_

It wasn't very hard, after all. Connections _were_ connections, and she made it across the ocean as a stowaway in Shinra's large cargo ship to Junon where a friend awaited her in a personal helicopter. He couldn't take her inside for fear of his own safety, he had said, but it was good enough for Shera.

She hadn't traveled far into the slums before she became lost. Though she had been to Midgar many times, it seemed as though every trip made the horrible place appear different each and every visit. She stopped to ask for directions to the Shinra building in some place she thought to be Sector 6. Normally, the train station was the more efficient way of getting to Headquarters, but something happened, she had heard, and the entire plate had collapsed. It had destroyed all of Sector 7 and the people in it.

Those she had asked seemed kind and offered to take her there personally. It wasn't long after that she had been tossed into the back of a carriage and learned that the Don was still alive—a man to be despised all the way around—and that if she wanted something from them, she would have to show a little hospitality in return. The very thought of the Don sent shivers up her spine. Shera remembered cowering into the corner of the carriage, frightened, and riding along the bumpy terrain for what seemed like hours. Her emotional will had depleted, and tears stained her cheeks. She had to take her glasses off several times to clean them, only to remember why she was crying in the first place. Then the wagon stopped and there were voices. The tail end of the carriage opened.

That's where Zack had come in.

Shera worked at washing the dishes for a little longer in Aeris' old house.

Aeris' house…Now _that_ was a strange thought. The girl was dead and Shera couldn't help but feel slightly guilty about intruding upon the younger woman's home. She had learned about the flower girl's death through Cid, who wasn't in the jolliest of moods to tell it. It was even more of a coincidence that the man who had saved her was none other than her old flame.

_Is this __**really**__ by coincidence, though? That's a very hard coincidence. He comes to save me without question or cause, and he turns out to be the old lover of someone I once knew. It still puzzles me._

What took her aback even more than that, however, was what had happened the night before. There was a large beam of light and then violent shaking. That's all she could remember before putting on her glasses, focusing her eyes, and tearing down the stairs like the house was up in flames. Zack was an odd one, too. He was lying on the porch, watching the stars, and seemed indifferent and unruffled about the entire thing. She saw the Shinra building from in the middle of the city burning. Debris was raining down in flames.

The first thing that had crossed her mind had been Cid. Had he been in the building? Had he been caught in the explosion? Was he okay? Thousands of thoughts like these passed through her mind. She couldn't bear to think that all of her efforts of trying to protect him had been in vain. She almost impatiently awaited Zack's return so that the two could find out.

_His hospitality is most unusually nice. But, then again, it's probably because I knew Aeris._

She immediately scolded herself for the thought. What was wrong with someone trying to be nice?

_ Not __**everyone**__ needs an ulterior motive, Shera. You've been living with the Captain for too long._

She held a hand to her chest, feeling her heart beat slowly. "Just trust him for now…" she whispered.

Then her head jerked to a sudden thud from outside the window. Thinking that Zack had come back early, she casually walked over to the window and peeked out the curtains. Two black motorcycles were parked outside the house.

"It's not Zack," she breathed, stepping away from the window. "Friends of Zack's, perhaps?"

_No, no, he would've told me if he was expecting company over. I've a bad feeling about this…_ Then there was another noise coming from the side of the house. It sounded as though someone or _something_ was scaling the wall. She wanted to shriek, but she simply climbed the stairs instead, trying to keep her footsteps light and airy. Rushing around the railing, she fled into the guestroom where she had spent the night and pulled the curtains back on the window.

Indeed, there were two men dressed in black climbing up the side of the house, using worn ropes for support. One was nearing the window where Zack's room was while the other was still latched to the wall. Shera could feel her chest tighten and her face flush with worry. She recognized the men. They had been with the two men who had thrown her into the back of the carriage the night before. Her mouth gaped and she could hear a rattling coming from the window next door.

Peeking outside again, she could see the man concentrating on the glass in front of Zack's room, a hammer in his big, burly hand. He tapped against it twice, and then reared back so fast that Shera hadn't caught sight of it until after the window shattered and the man was halfway through the frame. She _did_ shriek this time, watching as the second man quickly followed in behind him.

Another sight caught her eyes.

Down below was a man dressed in a long, satin red coat with white, furry ends. His blonde Mohawk stood out against the rays of the sun and he was smoking a long cigar.

"Don Corneo," she whispered, watching as four other men pulled in behind him.

The sound of more shattering glass, like a vase or a mirror, rang out in the distance and Shera whirled around to see the two black men stalking around outside of her room. Throwing her back to the wall, Shera looked for anything that could protect her in her time of need. Her frantic eyes trailed across the room and caught sight of a rod sticking out from behind the open door.

Of course. Aeris used a staff to help guard her in battle. Racing to the door, Shera grabbed the long stick and held it protectively to her chest. Suddenly, her heart fell. Who was she fooling? She knew that she had no experience in fighting. She was an engineer and nothing more. Of course she couldn't be of any help to Cid. It was then that she realized how far she had traveled without any inclination of what danger may linger in the outside world. Still, her blinded love for the man kept her going. Now she wondered if she would live to regret it.

"Where is she?" one of the men called out to the other. He had gone downstairs and she could hear him rummaging through the drawers and closets below.

"Not down here," Shera heard the second man shout back.

"We saw him take her here!" the first man argued. He ran back upstairs and she could see him through her open door run back into Zack's room. "This morning we saw him leave without her. She _has_ to be in here!"

Shera bit her bottom lip, becoming full aware that she was still glued to the wall in front of the door. If the man turned and saw her now…

She made a daring attempt to take a large step to the wall on her right, where the door itself would safely cover her. She did so and released a soft breath of relief when she remained unnoticed. Sidestepping along the wall until she was behind the door, Shera knelt down, keeping the staff close to her chest, and prayed that she would not be found out.

The man was still shuffling through stuff in the room over whilst the second man was throwing things downstairs. Shera tried to think of somewhere she could run to, but every place was surrounded. She immediately wished that Zack would come home. Her attention was drawn back to the real world when the man suddenly barged into the room she was in, looking around and grunting.

_This is it…_ she tried to sink further back into the room. _I'm going to be found out either way, so I must make the first move._

Slowly standing up, Shera tightened her grip on the staff in her hand, body trembling and palms sweating. Raising it above her head, she prepared to strike the man in the back.

The wood came down, but was instantly seized with the reaction time of someone who was inhuman. But this man _was_ human and had managed to capture Shera's staff in a single hand. That meant that Shera had been too slow. She clenched her teeth together, silently cursing herself for a miserable failed attempt. She still held the staff, but it was held high, much too high for her, causing her to stand upon her tip toes.

The man looked at her, not even breaking sweat. He gave a half smile, his eyes dazzling with something malicious swimming within.

"Found her," he called out and seized Shera by the waist with his other hand.

She screamed and fought against his pull, pushing at his chest as she immediately handed over the guard stick. She twisted and turned and he callously hurled the staff to the other side of the room, forcefully turning her so that her back was against his chest.

"You're a stubborn thing," he whispered into her ear, something that sounded grimy and with a slithering tongue. "I'd love to have my way with you if I could, but Don always gets the cake first." Letting out a gasp, Shera desperately tried to think of something that would remove herself from the man who had her bound. Tilting her head to catch her sight of aim, she thrust her leg upwards, the back of her heel catching the man in between his legs.

"Gah!" the man screamed in agony, immediately releasing her and dropping to his knees. "You bitch!"

Sprinting away from the room, Shera stopped atop of the stairs as the second man ascended, licking his lips devilishly.

"My, my, you took down my partner with little time. I suppose that it _was_ worth it to come after you. The Don's downstairs…waiting…"

Retreating backwards, Shera fled for Zack's room. There were angry footsteps trailing behind her. When she managed to get inside, she turned to close the door.

"You're quick, but not quick enough."

The first man whom she had kneed was already in the door frame, pushing against her own weight to force the door open. Shera screamed, stumbling backwards as the man stalked in, his partner behind him. She fell upon the messy bed, head lowered, and whimpered. The first man was looming over her now, and placed one hand on her shoulder and the other cupped her chin, pushing her attention up to his eyes.

"That was a really naughty thing you did back there," he whispered. Then the hand left her chin.

He slapped her.

Stifling a cry, Shera tumbled to the floor, the stinging sensation accenting her cheek. It burned and tingled, and just downright hurt.

"Get her downstairs," the same man told his partner and she could hear him leave the room. She was immediately hoisted onto the shoulder of the other man, her arms dangling and her face against his back as he held her legs.

Still dazed from the slap, the female engineer struggled to look around at her surroundings. She realized they were going downstairs…

…and that six other people were waiting, the Don included.

The man who had slapped her seated himself in a chair, nursing his wounds it seemed.

"Is this my feisty little girl?" the Don asked, walking up to the man who held her.

"She's feisty all right," the man agreed and then leaned forward to drop Shera to the ground. Her face was contorted for a second, the pain in her bottom striking all over her body, and she rubbed the soreness for a moment. Shera used her other hand to cup her injured cheek. "She kneed Joe right in the—"

"Now, now," the Don waved a finger at him. "No need for impolite language in front of our guest."

Shera could feel his eyes upon her and she remained focused on the ground. She tried to ignore it when he ran his fingers through her ponytail as well.

"The boy might be back soon. Let's take her back to Sector 6," the ringleader in red ordered. She could see three of the men step outside, leaving the door open. "But first…" Suddenly, Shera's head was yanked upwards, the face of the Don burned into her mind. His lips curled into a sneer as his eyes narrowed into an even line. He was enjoying this, she could tell, "A kiss!"

She struggled against him, ignoring the abrupt nausea that had forced its way up to her throat. Shera tried to pull his hands from her face, but she was caught from behind by the bodyguard who had taken her down the stairs. The man whom she had kneed was still in the chair, laughing. The last man whom had stayed behind wandered outside.

"It's no use resisting, my dear," the Don said, puckering his fat, little lips. "You'll have to have me one way or another."

There was a sudden thud from outside and all of the attention that had been on Shera was diverted, a moan coming from the doorway. Indeed, one of the men who had come in with the Don was lying in a crumpled heap in the open door frame. An immediate silence fell about the room and the man who held Shera now released her to withdraw a rather large knife. The man in the chair stood, holding a pipe that had been tied to his belt. Shera had failed to notice its presence, and blamed it on the fact that she had been so scared during the struggle upstairs. Whatever the reason, she realized it now.

The Don took a step backwards behind the man with the knife, leaving Shera out in the open. All eyes were focused on the doorway where the fallen henchman was. A sudden shadow fell on top of him.

"Damn trespassers," a voice broke the silence and a black haired youth stepped over the unconscious form and into the household.

"Zack!" Shera cried.

She watched him take his time to observe the situation and he rubbed the back of his head, "Man, you guys are persistent." He looked to the Don, "You know, _Donald,_ you could've just taken the time to find a new chick."

"My name is **not** Donald!" the Don roared, his face growing red. He clenched his fists together "It's my wonderful title! And how _dare_ you intrude on our 'alone time' together!"

"Alone time?" Zack blinked. "You sick suck. Not to mention, you were planning on doing it in my own home on top of kidnapping my good friend. _That _is unforgivable."

"Oh yeah?" the Don snorted. "What do you intend on doing about it?"

Zack flicked the cowlick from his face.

"What am I gonna do about it? That's easy. First, I'm gonna rip both of your buddies to pieces. Then I'm gonna make sure you never have the urge to run after another female as long as you live. Them, maybe after that, I'm going to steal your coat. I've always wanted one. How's that sound?"

The Don looked intimidated, but it lasted for only a brief moment. "Oooh, touchy. But talk is cheap. I want to see your moves."

"But of course," Zack bowed and then turned to the closet man to the right of him. "But a warrior can't defend himself without the help of his faithful…" he opened the door and reached inside, "…Butterfly Edge, straight from the mineral mountains of Cosmo Canyon." He twirled the hilt of the long blade around his fingers and wrist, grinning wickedly.

A man stepped into the doorway, holding a gun.

"Not in the house," Zack warned.

"Would I even?" the voice replied. He cocked the gun, "Who're we taking out first?"

There was an immediate sound of a clanking pipe resounding against the floor and Shera turned to look at the man she had slapped. He had surrendered.

Don was held in bewilderment. "W-What are you doing! Pick that pipe back up right now!"

"Hey," Zack jerked a thumb into his direction. "He's got a good sense of what's happening. There are two men, one with a sword much larger than any of your weapons and another with a gun, against three boneheads with no chance of survival. Hey, did you see what I did to your buddies outside?"

"S-Sir!" the man who had held the pipe stammered, whirling to Don Corneo. "Maybe we shouldn't piss them off…"

"Grow some balls!" Don shouted back, reaching forward to grab Shera.

Suddenly the gun went off.

The entire crew was in silence, nobody moving. Shera could feel chills run up her spine and she took in a deep breath. After the sound had stopped ringing in her ears and the smell had begun to dissipate, Zack turned to the man behind him.

"I told you not to shoot in the damn house!"

"Sorry," the other man apologized. "I had an itchy trigger finger."

Whilst he was distracted, the man whom Shera had slapped ran towards the door, violently pushing past the man with the gun, and was long down the road before anyone could realize what had happened.

The man with the knife seemed tempted to do the same thing.

"S-Sir…" he began.

"If you bail out on me…" the Don began to threaten.

"He…He has a gun!"

"Listen you—"

But the man had already raced forward, throwing his knife aside, shouting, "I'm not a solider!"

The man with the gun let him by before he ended up trampled again. Don was the only one left in the room. Eyes vacillating between him and Zack, Shera quickly crawled over to where her friend was, and he welcomed her presence.

"Well, Donald? What's it gonna be?"

"D-Damn all of you! Damn you to hell!"

Zack smiled. "I see...Well, I'm still here, so your damning didn't work. Now then, are we gonna fight?"

The odds were obvious, and even the Don wasn't stupid. However, he turned from the man with the gun to Zack, pointed a sausage-like finger at him, and said, "This ain't over between you and me, kid. I want my flesh and I get my flesh. **Always.**" He looked back to the gunman and then darted up the stairs. The man with the gun started after him, but was halted by Zack.

"Aren't ya gonna go after him?" he asked.

"Let him go," Zack replied, listening to the sounds on the roof above. "He gets the picture."

A moment later, the sounds were gone. Then there was just the sound of revving bikes. The humming of the engines got louder and louder, then gradually began to vanish into the distance. Shera was still on the floor, shivering.

"Hey," Zack nudged her shoulder. "You all right?"

She stared up at him, never happier to see anyone else other than her Captain, but Zack was equally as refreshing. With a whimper, she tugged on his arm, bringing him down to her level.

"Woah, woah," he struggled to regain his balance. "Did I…not make it in time?"

"No..." she quickly shook her head, "your timing was fine…" Then she threw herself into his shirt, trembling. "I've just never been that scared before."

Zack forced a chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her, consolingly. "Hey, hey, that can't be true. There's got to have been other times that have scared you, right?"

Her face was pressed tight against his chest, "But it was horrible! They broke in through the window upstairs and chased me and…and…the Don, he was—"

"He was a fool for trying to mess with me." Zack patted her on the back, "Come on, now, Shera. You've got to be braver than that."

She looked up at him, her eyes still beholding fright. His face was kind and gentle, and she knew that he wasn't trying to be harsh with her because he was uncaring. If that were true, then she doubted he would've come. Her eyes became downcast, realizing her weakness, and she couldn't bear to stare at him any longer.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, barely above audibility. She lowered her hands to her lap, fidgeting with her hands. "You're right. I should've acted better."

"Huh?" Zack blinked. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that. Shera, I just…I just want you to be safe and to be able to defend yourself when others aren't around. This is the second time and…"

"I know," she cut him off, feeling more embarrassed than before. "I'm sorry I'm so much trouble."

"I didn't mean it like that," he repeated, holding her shoulder firmly and taking the bottom of her chin with his other hand. He forced her to look up at him. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. We're friends, aren't we? Friends look out for each other."

By this time she was speechless. She had never had anyone say something like that to her or had ever felt as though she deserved to be protected. Shera had once hoped that the object of her affection would have said something like that to her, but that was a dream from long ago. Zack helped her to stand, in which she greatly appreciated the help, and he smiled.

* * *

ML


End file.
